Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Remy moved quickly to kiss his wife’s cheek. I noted then how big the diamond on her wedding ring was. “What a beautiful ring,” I commented.
“Well, I want every guy to know that I’ll hire a hit man to take them out if they come near my wife.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Like that could ever happen. You’re the love of my life."
He was beaming at her, and I was there for it.
The woman in charge of the mixer was Bethany Lowell, and she and her team welcomed us, and then Kiki came over and brought us recipe cards. Some of the food had already been made, the Caesar salad we were starting with and the cheese fondue we would be eating while we made the quick lasagna we’d be having as an entree. It was meat-free.
I glanced at my husband.
“We both know I’m not gonna eat that,” he assured me.
“Meat eater, Sam?” Marley asked him.
“Yes, ma’am, and proud of it.”
She smiled at him. “What is it you do?”
“I’m in law enforcement. You?”
“Oh, I have a true-crime cold-case podcast where I go out to talk to victims and get first-hand accounts. It’s called Confessions.”
He nodded.
“I’d love to interview you if you have the time.”
“I’ll certainly give it some thought,” he replied, which in Sam-speak meant no. “And you, Luc?” he asked her husband.
“Well, I’m the breadwinner of our family,” he said playfully, but with a trace of patronizing that I wasn’t crazy about. She gave us a fake smile, so it was clear she heard it as well. “I work so my lovely bride can follow her passion. I’m the CFO of Pierson Todd, Investment Securities. I can take care of your money.”
Sam nodded. “I appreciate the offer, but I doubt that we have enough for you to bother with.”
“You never know,” he said, giving Sam a pat on the arm.
Funny to watch him sort of startle after touching Sam. You didn’t know how solid the man was, how powerfully built, until you bumped him.
“And you, Jory?” Marley asked me.
“I’m a graphic designer,” I told her. “I have a small company that does branding, logos, that kind of thing.”
“It’s a lot more than that,” Sam said, leaning sideways to put his arm around me and kiss my cheek. “He does a lot there.”
“So a cop and a graphic designer,” Luc summed up. “I love it. Do you guys have kids?”
“Why yes,” I said, pulling out my phone to show them my beautiful children.
“Wait,” Slate said, grinning at me. “I know your daughter. She did the fireman’s fund gala last year. She was an awesome emcee.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at him.
“Your daughter hosts fundraisers?” Amber asked me. “That’s amazing. Maybe I know her. I’m the new assistant society editor for the Sun Times.”
“Her name’s Hannah Kage,” I told her. “And she works with––”
“Aaron Sutter,” she breathed out. “She’s his niece.”
“She’s his god-niece,” Sam corrected her. “If that’s even a thing.”
“You’re related to Aaron Sutter?” Poor Luc nearly choked.
“No. Just ancient friends,” I told him.
“Wait,” Amber said, working things out, grinning slowly. “Hannah’s father isn’t a cop, he’s the chief deputy of the Northern District of Illinois.”
“You’re a federal marshal?” Marley was stunned as she stared at Sam.
“He’s not any marshal, he’s the top one in Chicago,” Amber corrected her.
“You are?” Marley asked.
“I am,” Sam answered in that quiet way he had when he was trying to go unnoticed. Like that could ever happen. Everyone noticed Sam.
“Does Deputy US Marshal Miro Jones work for you? Because I would love to have him on my podcast speaking about Craig Hartley.”
“Well, that’s a request that would need to be made to him,” Sam told her. “And that goes through Eli Kohn, so you could contact his office.”
“How are you spelling Kohn?”
“I feel like chopped liver now, saying I’m an ATF agent,” Remy said, moving close to Sam, offering his hand. “I worked on the Kurt Norman case with your team, sir, and it was a pleasure. I’ve never been on one that ran so smoothly.”
“That’s kind of you to say, and I just checked in on that,” Sam replied, smiling, shaking Remy’s hand. “My deputy director, Ian Doyle, oversaw it, though you and your team did a helluva job taking Norman down, confiscating all that material. Now that was impressive.”
I knew when Sam said “material” that he meant sarin gas, because he'd told me. I didn’t chime in with that information. I got to know things because my husband trusted me, and the best way to make that stop was to share things in public.
“The FBI helped a bit,” Remy continued, clearly pleased to be talking to Sam.
Sam grimaced. “Maybe a bit.”
The ingredients were delivered then for quick lasagna, and since I’d learned to always step back and let others try their hand, I said nothing.